


Golden Brown

by ami_ven



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Take your meds, McGee.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Brown

**Author's Note:**

> written as a birthday present for "noemi" in 2014

McGee woke up slowly, feeling warm and content, until he moved and white-hot pain shot down his right arm.

Wincing, he sat up and reached for the sling on the bedside table. He sat still for a moment, remembering the tumble down the _very_ steep embankment that had him staying in Gibbs’s guest room until his sprained wrist healed.

He could smell fresh coffee and he headed downstairs, still in his pajamas. Gibbs stood at the stove, a full mug of coffee in easy reach, flipping pancakes in a cast-iron pan. On the kitchen table, there was a bottle of maple syrup, a carton of orange juice and a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“Take your meds, McGee,” said Gibbs, without turning around.

He did, downing the two pills with a swallow of juice. “Boss…?”

“Sit,” said Gibbs, and slid a stack of perfectly golden brown pancakes onto a plate. “Ducky says you’re supposed to take those with food.”

“Food, yeah,” said McGee. “But, boss, this is…”

Actually, this was what he’d always thought of as a perfect breakfast, the kind his mom used to make when he and Sarah were little, before his father’s naval career got in the way of family. McGee was pretty sure he’d only mentioned it once, on a particularly long and boring stakeout, but he hadn’t thought Tony had even been listening, let alone that it would somehow get back to Gibbs.

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not cooking breakfast every day,” said Gibbs, bringing his own plate of pancakes to the table. “But Abby thought I should do something nice for your birthday.”

McGee frowned. “It _is_ my birthday, isn’t it?”

“That’s what your file says. Eat, McGee.”

He took a bite— it was delicious. “This is great, boss. Thanks.”

“Happy birthday, Tim.”

THE END


End file.
